


Forget Me Not

by SilverKitsune



Series: The Years Between [5]
Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverKitsune/pseuds/SilverKitsune
Summary: The first thing Sorey sees when he wakes is a sea of violet, all across the clearing and up the cliffs.  It spreads farther than his eyes can see, and the particular shade brings with it a sense of nostalgia.  He knows there's more to it than just a pretty color or a color he particularly liked in the past; there's a sense of warmth and affection that comes with it, and he's not sure why that is.  Written for Sormik Week 2017 Day 3: Marlind (Nature/Knowledge).





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is a direct sequel to part 2 ([Anemone](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7722847)) of this series, and is meant to be the conclusion. I may still continue to add to it, as inspiration strikes, but for now, consider this the end. Title chosen for the meaning behind the flower, specifically: True and undying love; remembrance during partings or after death; a connection that lasts through time; fidelity and loyalty in a relationship, despite separation or other challenges; reminders of your favorite memories or time together with another person.

_Thank you, Sorey. For saving me and listening to my story. I have taken entirely too much of your time, and it is time for us to part ways so you can live your long-delayed life to the best of your ability, with you at the helm. If you ever need anything, just say my name, and I will be there._

The first thing Sorey sees when he wakes is a sea of violet, all across the clearing and up the cliffs. It spreads farther than his eyes can see, and the particular shade brings with it a sense of nostalgia. He knows there's more to it than just a pretty color or a color he particularly liked in the past; there's a sense of warmth and affection that comes with it, and he's not sure why that is.

He spreads his senses, and he can feel the blessings and emotions present in this place. He knows, from his time with Maotelus, that a single blessing is a priceless thing, and for this place to have four makes it practically sacred. A blessing of growth on the soil from an earth seraph, a blessing of gentle winds from a wind seraph, a blessing of warmth from a fire seraph, and a blessing of gentle rains from a water seraph . . . everything these flowers needed to grow.

And underneath it all, love and affection woven within, a sincere wish for him to to be well, and to see him again someday.

And as he examines closer still, a singular wish, tied to the blessing of gentle rains - _I believe in you, so I'll wait for you. Please, come back to me soon, Sorey_.

His memories fail to bring up a name, but from the way his mind supplies a voice filled with affection and love, it is of someone that was important to him in the life he led before.

The winds swirl around him as he stands, and he looks around to see a set of clothing laid out for him, robes highlighted in green, with a note laid on top. _One last thank you for all that you have done._

He puts them on, and as he begins walking, a gentle breeze tugs at him, whispering promises of reunions and friendship, and he follows it. He has no memories of the life that was, but there is something about the wind that he trusted, something that tells him this would lead him to where he is meant to be, and so he lets his feet wander with the breeze as his guide.

* * *

He travels for days, walking along rivers and abandoned trails, without a sign of another traveler along the way. A part of him wonders if it's natural, but all questions die in his mind when he stumbles upon a half-overgrown ruin, and from the way the wind urges him to go in, he knows it's important.

 _Was this something he loved in the past? Was there something in this ruin that would lead to a clue to his past?_ His mind provides none of the answers, but he presses onward, the breeze now all but pushing him towards a room in the back.

And there he sees them, a water seraph, standing with their back to him as they examine an altar, the sunlight in the ceiling making their silver and blue tipped hair shine in the gentle lighting. The patterns on the split cape brings up a sense of familiarity, a wave of nostalgia. He stops to admire them for a moment, noting the poise in their posture, and the curiosity in the voice that comes to him on the winds.

He knows this seraph, and yet, he does not.

And then time all but freezes as he sees the other touch the gem in the altar and the floor crumbles out from under them, and Sorey reacts, the breeze that was once his guide now speeding him to catch the other faster than he thought possible.

He catches them – just barely, and from the way the other shakes their head, he knows it was a rough catch, but when they look up, and Sorey sees that shade of violet that he saw in the meadow, a single name bubbles up from the depths of his memories.

“ _Mikleo!”_

 


End file.
